


Our Love Story Could Be Kinda Gory

by bookish_sister



Category: The Book of Mormon - Parker/Stone/Lopez
Genre: F/M, M/M, zombie apocalypse AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-16
Updated: 2018-10-19
Packaged: 2019-07-12 23:05:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16005161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookish_sister/pseuds/bookish_sister
Summary: There’s no way harboring a zombie could lead to good things... right?





	1. I

**Chapter 1**

**-CM-**

Connor McKinley was anxious. Then again, he’d been anxious since the apocalypse started.

 

It had happened years ago when everyone had least expected it. Connor had been at the Thomases’ house for their son Christopher’s birthday when suddenly everything shook, and sirens blared, and the TV displayed that terrifying message:

 

“THE WORLD HAS ENDED. TAKE SHELTER WHILE YOU STILL CAN. FEAR THE UNDEAD.”

 

Since then, Connor’s childhood had been a blur of safe houses, codes and drills and curfews, and weapons training. He had been put in charge of District Nine and stationed in Uganda, where breakouts occurred every other day and your guard had to be up at all times.

 

However, the reason that Connor was anxious wasn’t because of any of that, at least not at the moment. He was anxiously awaiting the arrival of a miracle.

 

A miracle named Kevin Price.

 

The Price family were regarded as the saviors of the apocalypse. They ran the biggest safe house in their state, and they developed the drills, codes, and curfews that kept everyone safe.

 

And now they were sending their son, the best soldier among all of them, to District Nine to help them out.

 

Connor couldn’t remember a time when he had felt so excited and relieved.

 

“McKinley!” Ross Davis called from the common room. “They’re here!”

 

“Coming!” Connor called and, after straightening his uniform and pushing his hair out of his eyes, he stepped into the common room. Once there, he found all of his charges pressed up against the tiny window. He rolled his eyes fondly and cleared his throat, causing them to dart away from it.

 

“I know you’re all excited,” Connor said, “but that’s no excuse to break rule #15.”

 

“But,” Eric Michaels gestured to the window, “they’re here!”

 

“I heard, Michaels.” Connor glanced at the window, suppressing the urge to take a peek for himself. “But Davis is our designated lookout this week, not all of you.”

 

Most of his charges had the decency to look sheepish. Davis gave them an apologetic look.

 

“Alright, everybody, get ready,” Connor said. “They should be here any--”

 

_knockknockknockknockknockknockknockknockknock_

 

The sound of the Designated District Knock sent everyone scrambling to their positions. Connor mentally surveyed his uniform once more. After he was sure everything was in place, he stepped in front of the door and, after undoing the five locks, opened it.

 

A short stout man carrying two tattered knapsacks stood on the other side.

 

“Hello!” His voice was high and loud, which made Connor’s left eye twitch.

 

“Hello,” Connor greeted. “Welcome to Dis--”

 

“You’re District Leader McKinley, right?” the young man asked, practically shouting in his face. “I’m Arnold Cunningham.”

 

Connor regarded Cunningham with slight bemusement. Arnold seemed like a handful, but hopefully, Price could control him.

 

But, wait…

 

“Where’s Price?” he asked, looking behind Cunningham, who gave him a confused and nervous look.

 

“What do you mean, he’s right…”

 

Arnold looks over his shoulder only to find an empty space. Cunningham paled and turned back to Connor, his face more nervous than confused.

 

“Um, can you give me a second?” Cunningham asked and, without waiting for an answer, closed the door in Connor’s face.

 

Connor stared back at the closed door in confusion, as did everyone else in the common room. Chris, who had been standing near the communication radio with James Church, came up behind him.

 

“Do you think Price is okay?” he whispered.

 

“I hope so,” Connor whispered in reply. It was always stressful greeting injured arrivals, especially since the only creatures around that could do harm could also infect. Connor was hoping for the best.

 

The sound of two pairs of footsteps alerted Connor to the return of Cunningham and the arrival of Price. Connor shooed Chris back into his spot and pushed his hair back as nine soft knocks sounded on the other side of the door. Excited and anxious, Connor swung the door open.

 

“Hello!” he greeted. “Welcome to District Nine…”

 

Connor’s excitement evaporated as the whole common room tensed. Cunningham offered them a nervous smile, but Connor paid it no mind, as he was more focused on the figure standing just behind him.

 

His skin was pale and flushed, yet, at the same time, it was green and sickly. His eyes were dull and the skin around them was sunken in. His brown hair was messy and coarse. His uniform was ripped and his skin was dirty and scarred. A big gash overtook most of his right cheek.

 

However, even with all these differences, he was still recognizable as Kevin Price.

 

Connor sucked in a breath, then let it out shakily. Cunningham quailed slightly under the piercing gaze of the room. Price leaned against Cunningham absentmindedly, though he shifted every once and a while.

 

The sound of a shotgun being cocked caught everyone’s attention. Nathaniel Neeley, who was in charge of weaponry this week, had his gun aimed directly at Price’s head. Price made a panicked noise and shuffled close to Cunningham.

 

“Wait, wait!” Cunningham shouted, putting a hand in front of him and grabbing Price’s forearm with the other. He pushed himself into the middle of the common room with Price in tow. “I can explain this, I swear!”

 

Connor, who had finally regained his wits, sighed and shut the door.

 

“Lower the gun, Neeley,” he said, noticing how Price struggled weakly in Cunningham’s grip, his wide, clouded eyes never leaving the gun.

 

“McKinley…” Neeley narrowed his eyes at Cunningham and Price.

 

“Gun. Down.”

 

Neeley scowled but complied anyway. Price relaxed and Cunningham gave Connor a grateful look. He returned it with a stern frown.

 

“Cunningham, please explain what happened.”

 

“We were ambushed,” Arnold told them. “They attacked us while we were on the bus, and while we were trying to escape, Kevin got bit.” He pointed to Price’s left hand, which was wrapped in a tie.

 

“You patched him up?” Connor asked, confused.

 

Cunningham nodded. “Yep!” he said loudly. “He let me, and he didn’t try to attack or bite me at all! He even recognized me, kinda. I think the old Kevin is still in there!”

 

Connor was dumbfounded. Usually, when victims got bit, they turned hostile within seconds. You could hardly get close to a recent breakout without them trying to bite your head off. Could Price be different?

 

Connor sighed and regarded Cunningham sternly.

 

“What do you want me to do about this, Cunningham?”

 

Cunningham exhaled shakily.

 

“Please let him stay!” he pleaded. “He’s been waiting for this moment since he was a kid -- the saving people and proving himself part, not the becoming a zombie part -- and he’s not gonna hurt anybody, promise!”

 

Murmurs filled the room, and Cunningham shrank under the nasty and judgmental whispers. Connor rolled his eyes at his charges.

 

“You’ll look after him?”

 

Cunningham looked up at him in surprise, then nodded frantically.

 

“I will, I swear!” he cried.

 

Connor looked from Cunningham to Price. The zombified young man was blankly surveying the room and its patrons. His free arm hung limply to the side and the one in Cunningham’s grip twitched every now and again, as if eager to get away from the attention its owner was receiving. He seemed to be standing on the balls of his feet. Then, Price turned to him, his eyes blank yet curious, and Connor knew he had only one option.

 

He turned to Zachary Zelder.

 

“Zelder, get me a rope,” he demanded. Zelder complied immediately.

 

Cunningham stiffened, and his hold on Price’s arm tightened. Price tensed, a soft confused noise escaping his chapped lips.

 

Zelder returned with the rope. Connor took it and turned back to the newcomers.

 

“Wha-what are you gonna do with that?” Cunningham stuttered nervously. Price, apparently sensing his partner’s shakiness, shifted slightly.

 

“It’s not what I’m _going_ to do, it’s what you _have_ to do.” Connor handed the rope to Cunningham, who took it reluctantly. “If Price is going to stay here in his current condition, he can’t roam around here freely. I want you to tie that rope around his wrist and keep hold of it at all times, you hear me?”

 

Cunningham looked from him to the rope to Price, who was batting weakly at the item in his hand. He then turned back to Connor and nodded.

 

“I hear you,” he agreed.

 

Connor nodded, then pointed down the hall.

 

“There’s a spare room at the end of the hall,” he told them. Cunningham thanked him, then went down the hall, pulling Price behind him.

 

As soon as the two were out of earshot, everyone crowded Connor and began to shout out protests, with Neeley and Church protesting the loudest. Connor, what was absolutely down with everything today, wasn’t having it.

 

“Quiet!” Connor shouted. “I made my choice. Price is staying here and that’s final!”

 

“But, McKinley--”

 

“I said, that’s final, Church!” Connor said angrily. “Everyone, go back to your stations, and if I hear another remark about my decision, I’ll put all of you on cleaning duty.”

 

There were no more protests after that. Everyone returned to their spots begrudgingly, grumbling softly. A few minutes later, Connor felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned to see Chris behind him.

 

“Connor, are you sure about this?” he asked.

 

Connor narrowed his eyes at the short blond.

 

“Are you questioning my decision?”

 

Chris shook his head. “Just a simple inquiry,” he replied.

 

Connor looked away from him and sighed.

 

“I’m confident that we’ll make the most of this situation,” Connor said wearily.

 

“And if we can’t?” Chris asked. Connor gave him a grim look.

 

“I’ll have to take Price out personally.”


	2. II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There’s no way harboring a zombie could lead to good things... right?

**II**

**-CM-**

Connor woke up feeling tense, worn out, and grumpy. He had hardly caught a wink of sleep between worrying about his charges and thinking about that damn zombie.

 

Price was supposed to be their miracle. Instead, he was their death omen.

 

However, Connor couldn’t just lay in bed and hope that the problem went away. He had to deal with the fact that it was here now and he had to deal with it.

 

Which is why he was standing outside the door to Cunningham’s room, urging himself to knock, reassuring himself that if the zombie tried anything, he’d be able to take care of it. Taking a deep breath, he knocked rapidly on the door nine times, then stood back as he awaited the potential danger that might appear behind the door.

 

“Just a second!”

 

There was a lot of bustling and muffled talking, then finally, the door opened and Cunningham stood in the doorway. Connor attempted not to let his relief show too much.

 

“Oh, hey, McKinley,” Cunningham greeted. “Is it breakfast time already?”

 

“No, not yet,” Connor told him, ignoring how the shorter man wilted slightly. “I just wanted to check on you, make sure you were getting settled in properly.”

 

Cunningham brightened instantly.

 

“We are!” he exclaimed. “Everything’s unpacked and put in a place. Right, Kev?”

 

An affirmative grunt drew Connor’s attention, and he looked up to see the zombie staring at the both of them from his place near the shelves, which were lined with family pictures and various figurines of Star Wars and Disney characters. His wrist was tied to the bedpost.

 

Connor frowned at this.

 

“Cunningham, why aren’t you holding the rope?”

 

Cunningham paled slightly.

 

“Oh, well, um…” He exhaled shakily. “It was super uncomfortable for both of us to try and sleep with it on, so I just tied it to the bedpost. It’s on there tight, and Kevin didn’t slip out of it, see?”

 

Cunningham rushed over and tugged on the rope in the same moment that the zombie was reaching towards the shelf. He was thrown back, and his arm jostled the top shelf, causing the twelve Disney figurines to wobble slightly. The zombie made a sound that could be best described as trying to scream underwater, and attempted to lunge toward the shelf, his hand batting wildly at air.

 

Then, it was quiet.

 

Cunningham and Price stared at Connor with as much surprise as he felt. Then Price’s surprise slowly melted into blank gratitude as he weakly reached out to where Connor’s hands were tightly gripping the top shelf, ensuring that none of the figurines were on the verge of falling.

 

“Yeah,” Connor said softly. “They’re okay.”

 

Price made a soft growling noise and batted at Connor’s nearest forearm.

 

“I think he’s thanking you, District Leader McKinley,” Cunningham informed.

 

Connor’s eyes flicked from the chubby soldier to the unfortunate zombie.

 

“Um, you’re welcome?”

 

Price’s lips gave a minuscule twitch, and he reached towards Connor’s bicep with a limp, yet eager hand. Connor, whose limbs seemed to be moving on their own, inched closer, his arm shaking slightly as the limp, sickly pale fingers drew near…

 

“McKinley?”

 

Connor stepped away from Pri-the zombie quickly, almost bumping into the shelves. Cunningham let go of the rope and pulled the zombie, who was slowly slipping to the floor, back towards him.

 

“Is everything okay?” Chris asked from the doorway. “We thought we heard a shout, so I came to investigate.”

 

“Everything’s fine,” Connor told him. “It was just a little shelf mishap.”

 

Chris nodded, though he didn’t look too convinced.

 

“Well, Zelder just finished putting breakfast together.” He turned to Cunningham, who was still holding up his zombified companion. “You guys should come get some.”

 

“Finally!” Cunningham cheered, untying the rope from the bedpost. “I’m starving! Come on, Kev.”

 

Cunningham carefully lifted the zombie up by his skinny forearm, before rushing down the hall, zombie in tow. Connor went to follow, but Chris stopped him.

 

“Are you sure you’re okay, Connor? You look a bit shaken up.”

 

Connor scowled.

 

“I’m fine, Chris,” he insisted in a steely tone, pushing past his friend and into the hall. Once there, he exhaled sharply. While Connor was glad that Chris was always alert and surveyed everything, he had to admit that the short blond came off as overbearing at times. He supposed that Chris was probably feeling just as tense about their current situation as all of his other charges, and that was to be expected.

 

Still, Connor wished he’d direct his attention to anyone but him.

 

Cunningham and his undead companion were already sitting at the table when Connor and Chris, a few steps behind, arrived in the dining room. Two bowls of today’s breakfast(‘fruit salads’ consisting of mostly apple slices and grapes) had been placed in front of them. Cunningham alternated between eating his fruit salad and awkwardly feeding his companion. Whenever Cunningham would take a bite of his food, he made a full display of his movements so that the zombie could copy them. It was a slow progress, and the zombie tended to miss every other bite, but it seemed to work out fine.

 

“Hey, I’m gonna get us some food, okay,” Chris said, before practically rushing into the kitchen area.

 

Connor rolled his eyes. “Traitor,” he muttered under his breath as he sat down at the table. The zombie, idly munching on an apple slice, watched with blank eyes as Connor lowered himself into the chair. Connor, desperately wishing Chris were sitting with him right now, tried to direct his eyes elsewhere, hoping that this zombie would lose interest in him. However, every time Connor’s eyes managed to fall on the undead man sitting in front of him, he found that the dull brown gaze hadn’t wavered, even after the apple slice was devoured and replaced with a grape.

 

Thankfully, Chris’s return ends the unsettling staring match, as Connor’s gaze is drawn to the blond, who is carrying two bowls filled with apple slices and grapes. He placed one in front of Connor and set his on the table, pulling out a chair to sit on. The four ate in silence, until the zombie swatted weakly at the apple slice in his companion’s hand and tugged softly at Cunningham’s shirt sleeve, a muffled whine escaping his lips. This was apparently his way of saying he was done, since Cunningham moved his bowl away, grabbing a few grapes from both of their dishes as he pulled the zombie up with a gentle tug on the rope tied to his wrist. The two left for the living room, and Connor almost laughed at the irony.

**-CM-**

Breakfast didn’t take long to finish, and Connor found himself in the living room alongside James, Ross, Cunningham, and the zombie. Ross was sitting near the window, occasionally taking peeks out of it so that he could warn them all at anytime. James was still stationed at the radio, adjusting it every so often to make sure they had a good connection. Cunningham was sitting on the floor with his undead companion, whose legs were stretched out awkwardly on the hardwood. The former was holding the rope that was wrapped around the latter’s right wrist. Cunningham would place his other hand under the rope and mime grabbing it, a movement that the zombie would attempt to sluggishly copy. Every time he fully wrapped a hand around it, Cunningham would beam happily and congratulate him, which resulted in soft growls that had the rest of the patrons in the room sharply turning towards them.

 

Connor was sitting on the couch, having left Chris to take over the training drills, and was watching the exchange between Cunningham and the zombie. The undead man had once again managed to fully wrap his hand around the rope, and a low growl slipped through his pale chapped lips. James turned to them, then turned back with a scowl.

 

“Hey, McKinley?”

 

Connor looked down at Cunningham, who seemed a bit confused. The zombie was too focused on the rope in his loose fist.

 

“Yes, Cunningham?” he asked, an eyebrow raised.

 

Cunningham hesitated slightly.

 

“Um, is that guy okay? He keeps looking over his shoulder, and I don’t want to judge, considering the circumstances, but we’re safe in the mission hut, right? I mean, he just looks so paranoid.”

 

Connor opened his mouth to answer, but was cut off.

 

“Um, ‘that guy’ has a name,” the aforementioned man announced dryly. “It’s James Church. And it’s hard to relax when you’re in the midst of your greatest enemy.”

 

Cunningham frowned.

 

“I didn’t know you felt that way,” he said, and Connor was sure he’d take the zombie somewhere else, or kick him out all together, before he continued with, “I totally understand why you wouldn’t like me, but I hope we can be better friends in the future.”

 

The only sounds for a while were Ross’s barely concealed snickers and the soft whines from the zombie when the rope slipped from his limp fist.

 

James shook his head and turned back to the radio. Connor furrowed his eyebrows at this, since James hadn’t even tried to correct Cunningham, though he stayed silent. He turned his gaze back to the floor…

 

Only to be met with blank, brown eyes.

 

Connor fought back a flinch as the zombie stared at him, the rope having slipped from his hand once again. His eyes held that same peculiar sliver of gratitude that Connor had noticed in Cunningham’s room. It had made him seem sort of…

 

Human.

 

But that couldn’t be right, could it?

 

The zombie’s slowly tilted his head, then reached up towards Connor with one of his pale hands. Connor suppressed the urge to jerk away. He lowered himself to the floor cautiously and watched as the hand made its sluggish journey from the awkward position in front of its owner’s chest to Connor’s face, where it was then dragged slowly down his pale and freckled cheek before falling limply to the floor.

 

“Wow, Kevin really likes you!”

 

Connor started. Cunningham was grinning at him from the zombie’s other side, and Connor realized he had seen the entire exchange.

 

Then Cunningham’s statement registered, and Connor frowned.

 

“He’s a zombie, Cunningham, how could he possibly--”

 

“When you saved his Disney figures,” Cunningham continued, cutting Connor off. “He’s been looking at you like that since then. You made him happy.”

 

Connor went to protest this, then stopped. It did make sense, seeing as the staring had started directly after that. However, it didn’t make sense to what Connor had been taught, which was that zombies could feel nothing but blind rage against humanity for their unfortunate fate and godless nature.

 

Could his father and the rest of the pastors have been wrong? Could it be possible that zombies could feel other emotions besides rage?

 

Or was Kevin Price really the miracle they’d been waiting for?

 

Connor looked over at the two young men beside him. Cunningham was holding the rope again, and was talking excitedly about what Connor assumed was something sci-fi related. And Price was listening to him, his brown eyes holding the tiniest hint of light among the dull glaze of death that the rest of his face held.

 

 _Maybe,_ Connor thought, _this situation wouldn’t be so bad._


End file.
